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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/25143265">Cold Blooded, Check It And See</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lewdsmokesoldier/pseuds/Lewdsmokesoldier'>Lewdsmokesoldier</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Widowmaker/Reaper [2]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Overwatch (Video Game)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Aftercare, Dirty Talk, Dom/sub, F/M, Fluff and Smut</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-07-08</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-07-08</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-05 02:28:01</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,064</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/25143265</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lewdsmokesoldier/pseuds/Lewdsmokesoldier</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Widowmaker and Reaper have a steady thing going. She has difficulty feeling pleasure outside of situations involving pain: that’s part of her conditioning. Reaper helps her address it by domming the hell out of her.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Reaper | Gabriel Reyes/Widowmaker | Amélie Lacroix</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Widowmaker/Reaper [2]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1821385</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>18</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Cold Blooded, Check It And See</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Originally posted in February of 2019 as part of <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/17579483?view_full_work=true"> Overwatch Tales.</a></p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“What are you?”<br/>
<br/>
The whisper tugged at her eardrums. If she’d been capable of disquiet, Widowmaker would have shuddered and recoiled from the voice, its echoes lingering far longer than any murmur should. But instead, she only felt herself itching to respond, to prompt <em>more</em>.<br/>
<br/>
“<em>Un salope.</em>” She hissed through her teeth, arms folded in front of her on the edge of her windowsill, her ass jutting out for Reaper to partake of, a hold ripped in her suit to give him access. Her cheeks were full and round, the pale blue of the waters of the Seine as the first beams of light peeked down through the gaps between buildings on the riverside.<br/>
<br/>
At least, that was their <em>usual</em> color. Now they were approaching a shade of purple, the result of her partner’s repeated, full-force slaps against her buttocks, the darker pinpoints marks of where his fingers had dug into her rear end.<br/>
<br/>
“Damn straight.” Reaper let out a dark chuckle, rolling the sound in his throat before escalating it into a single cackle. His pants were in a pile around his ankles, prick jabbing into Widowmaker’s cunt with all the force he could muster. He was slamming his pelvis against her upturned backside so hard that he didn’t even need to spank her to watch her butt quake and shudder against him. He smacked her ass more for the pain he knew she craved, and the power those actions gave him over her. Reaper was treating Widowmaker extra roughly not because he <em>needed</em> to, but because he <em>could</em>. That she loved it certainly helped him justify his behavior.<br/>
<br/>
Grunting and groaning, he splayed his left hand and pressed it against the small of her back, his right flying back and forth to let loose ringing strikes on Widowmaker’s jiggling, now-purple ass cheeks. “And don’t you <em>ever </em>forget it. You’re so eager to pump me dry that I almost wonder if I should refrain from fucking you, just to see how you react.”<br/>
<br/>
“Don’t you <em>fucking</em> dare.” Widowmaker’s gritted teeth would have indicated frustration at her situation if she hadn’t developed a pattern of feeling perfectly satisfied with this sort of treatment. Subjecting herself to Reaper’s aggression helped her push past the blocks to her pleasure that she was now bound to, and she’d gotten addicted to chasing the highs she felt from interplaying sex with violence, communication with degradation, exchanges with insults. Something about being a part of something so <em>raw</em>, so visceral was giving her a loophole to feeling again, and she’d exploit it however she damn well could.<br/>
<br/>
It was a good thing she kept up her stellar mission performance: if she’d started to slip, to devote herself wholly to this sort of play, Talon might take away the only consistent source of pleasure she could find.<br/>
<br/>
“Do you have any other reason to be here, other than to be a hole for me to fuck? A pussy to wrap around my dick? An ass to ogle and hit?” Reaper emphasized each vulgarity with a particularly powerful thrust of his hips, his dick pounding deeper inside and against her every time. He was pumping himself hard and fast, balls slapping against her hood, the dull <em>thud, thud thud</em> a pleasure in and of itself, to say nothing of the effect of such a heavy sack smacking her clit.<br/>
<br/>
Widowmaker knew his words were part of their game. Like the slaps and the rough, carelessly rapid pace of his fucking, it would be gone when their time was up. It didn’t leave whatever space they’d elected to carry this out in. They were professionals.<br/>
<br/>
...But that didn’t mean that Reaper’s words didn’t carry a hint of truth. For the briefest of moments, the idea of literally being nothing but a tool for Reaper to dump cum into when he wanted, and ignore when he didn’t, <em>excited</em> Widowmaker more than she’d ever admit.<br/>
<br/>
“<em>Merde, merde, merde!</em>” She cried out, clenching her hands into fists as her breasts pressed into her forearms from the force of Reaper laying into her from behind. She was losing control, the stinging and aching from her slap-kissed rear blending with the degrading thoughts into a cocktail of pleasure, a cloud of submission helped along by how well he was spearing her on his cock.<br/>
<br/>
“Say it! Widowmaker, if you make me wait, I swear…”<br/>
<br/>
“<em>Oui! Oui! Je voudrais votre bite! Votre foutre! Tout-suite!</em>” She cried out, a high whine building in her throat as the admission pushed her over the edge. Even the most debasing, slutty-sounding phrase she’d heard herself speak sounded romantic in the language of love, and that contrast made her orgasm all the better. She came <em>hard</em>, cunt fluttering in orgasmic contractions around Reaper’s dick even as his breath rattled in his throat and he held himself in deep, pumping up as much cum into her as his balls were willing to give up. His hand on her back clenched into a fist, while he sank his fingers into whatever he could grab of her right ass cheek.<br/>
<br/>
Widowmaker was breathing as heavily as she could, feeling Reaper start to slump. His shoulders hunched and he managed to avoid draping himself over her back, instead pulling out with a squelching sound and moving his hands off of her body, watching his load seep out from between Widowmaker’s puffy, well-fucked cunt lips.<br/>
<br/>
“Hey.” His voice took on a softer tone, one that Widowmaker knew heralded the end of their particular dynamic. He reached a hand out and stroked the back of her neck, and she awkwardly managed to turn herself over to let him palm her cheek. The gesture was as close to affectionate as they got, minus when they cuddled.<br/>
<br/>
Although neither would admit to <em>ever</em> doing that.<br/>
<br/>
“You did good.” Reaper spoke without sneer or snideness, his voice as genuine as it could be, echoing and fading in and out from behind his mask. His gloved thumb caressed her cheek, and she marveled at the way he was able to shift from violent dominance to something approaching softness.<br/>
<br/>
How well might <em>she</em> play that part? The thought emboldened other ideas. What, exactly, might exchanging roles feel like?<br/>
<br/>
“<em>Mon cher</em>.” She began, and Reaper’s touch faltered on her face. “I think I’d like to try something different next time, if you’re willing to experiment.”</p>
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